


The Perks of Being An Avenger

by respoftw



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Massage, Pietro is not an Avenger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 08:13:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4514523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/respoftw/pseuds/respoftw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tony Stark, billionaire playboy, announced that he had hired a personal masseuse that would be available to all of the Avengers 24/7, Clint had a pretty decent idea of what to expect.</p>
<p>Female. European. Swedish, probably.  Blonde.  Barely legal.  Perky.  Completely ineffectual at the actual job.</p>
<p>Spoiler: he's completely wrong.  It's Pietro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perks of Being An Avenger

When Tony Stark, billionaire playboy, announced that he had hired a personal masseuse that would be available to all of the Avengers 24/7, Clint had a pretty decent idea of what to expect.

 

Female. European. Swedish, probably. Blonde. Barely legal. Perky. Completely ineffectual at the actual job.

 

As the very masculine, very not female, masseuse walked into the room, Natasha's smirk when Clint had told her his thoughts suddenly made a whole lot more sense.

 

He's suddenly very aware that he's mostly naked, and worse, _little_ Clint is very aware that he's mostly naked, alone in a room with a guy that could quite easily have been plucked from his most private fantasies.

 

“Good evening, Mr Barton.” _Well_ , Clint thinks as the man (Pietro, according to his nametag) greets him, _at least he got the European part right_. “What can I do for you tonight?”

 

Clint has lots of ideas about what Pietro can do ~~to~~ for him this evening, most of them in the dirty-bad-wrong category. A polite cough interrupts his fantasies and Clint realises that Pietro is still waiting on an answer. “My shoulder!” Clint cringes internally as he practically yells the words. Lowering his voice, he continues. “I, uh, I landed on it weird a while ago and it's not been right since. I was hoping that you could help work it loose?”

 

Pietro nods in assurance. “That's what I'm here for. Why don't you lie down on the table. On your front please.”

 

Clint hovers at the foot of the massage table, uncertain. He's already shirtless, but isn't sure what the etiquette is about his lower half. Shouldn't he be naked, except for a strategically placed towel? Or is that only in porn?

 

Seeing his hesitance, Pietro stops his preparation. “Is everything all right?”

 

“Uh, should I...?” Clint's hands move to the waistband of his sweats and he could swear that he sees Pietro's professional countenance waiver for a second.

 

“If you want me to work your whole body” ( _dear Gods, yes_ ) “then sure. But as we're just looking at your shoulder, you're fine as you are.”

 

“Oh, right. Well..” Clint feels like an idiot as he lays himself on the table, thankful that Pietro had wanted him lying face down, all the easier to hide his embarrassed cheeks. He startles as he feels a warm hand brush against his elbow.

 

“Sorry,” Pietro apologises. “Can you bring your arm up so it's in line with your shoulder? That's perfect. Now just let your arm dangle loose - - “

 

“ _Like cooked spaghetti.”_ Clint finishes the instruction in sync with Pietro.

 

“I suppose, being an archer, you're familiar with shoulder massages.” Pietro chuckles as he starts to move Clint's arm around like the wet noodle he's supposed to be channelling, manipulating the shoulder joint efficiently.

 

“Yeah,” Clint's voice is muffled as he rubs his face against the table at the slight twinge in his muscle, Pietro immediately easing up without having to be told. “You could say that.”

 

“Well, you'll have to tell me how I compare.”

 

Clint has to bite his lips to keep from telling Pietro exactly how favourably he already compares to Clint's past masseuse experiences, and as the massage progresses, he can genuinely say it's not just because he's a walking wet dream. Pietro is damn good at his job, Clint's shoulder already feeling better than it has in months.

 

It's starting to feel so good, in fact, the pain having been left behind until his muscles feel lax and free, that Clint is having trouble keeping a lid on the moans of pleasure and approval that keep wanting to spill from his mouth.

 

“It's normal, the noises. I don't mind.” Of course Pietro had noticed, Clint wishes the ground would just open up and swallow him whole. “It actually helps me gauge your comfort levels so please don't hold back on my account. I like you loud.”

 

_Jesus fucking Christ,_ Clint thinks,  _is this kid trying to kill him_ ? Still, Clint takes his words to heed and uncensors himself to the point that he's fairly sure Tony could make money off any recording that JARVIS was picking up.

 

By the time that Pietro is finishing off, Clint is hard enough to cut glass, trying desperately not to give in to the urge to rub against the table, thanking the Gods again that he's lying face down.

 

“OK, I'm going to finish you off” ( _seriously?!_ ) “just like we started. Arm up, cooked spaghetti.”

 

Clint screws his eyes shut and tries to breathe through the last few moments of this exquisite torture before he can go somewhere private and replay the memory of strong, sure hands against his skin. This part is the worst, his loose arm brushing every so often against Pietro's firm thigh or narrow hip. He's concentrating so hard on not embarrassing himself that he almost misses it when his arm brushes against a warm hardness that is definitely not muscle. His eyes fly open as Pietro's soft gasp clues him into what just happened but the massage is over and Pietro is straightening up and ushering him out the room before he can even process his next move.

 

“Hey, wait!” Clint catches the t-shirt that Pietro throws at him in a panic. “Look, you're...y'know and I'm...” Clint nods down at his own tented crotch, “maybe we can help each other out.”

 

“I don't do that with clients.”

 

Clint's face falls. “No, of course you don't. I didn't mean it like...I like you and I just thought that you might...” Dejected, Clint pulls on the t-shirt and turns to leave.

 

“I might.” Pietro's voice stops him. “My sister, Wanda, she works here too. I could...she could maybe do your massages from now on?”

 

Clint doesn't even need to think about it, the massage had been great but there was nothing in the world that could be amazing enough to turn down this opportunity.

 

“Yes! That would be fant- - wait, is she blonde and perky?”

 

Pietro laughs loudly, “God, no. Brunette and goth-y.”

 

“Sounds perfect! So...we can...?”

 

Pietro grins. “How about you take your sweats off this time, Mr Barton?”

 

Jesus, Clint is going to get Tony one hell of a thank you gift for this.

 

 


End file.
